


Hah.

by ticketlove



Category: Ticketlove(band)
Genre: M/M, Swexie Makeout Sessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 22:12:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18040016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ticketlove/pseuds/ticketlove
Summary: the one where kihei gets cockblocked





	Hah.

Kihei, for all his rude comments, empty threats, and petty remarks behind closed doors still manages to hold the title of ‘Doll of the Dorm’, granted by the other students who happen to be immune to his charms, or on the receiving end of his wrath. He definitely plays to his advantages, (I mean, it doesn’t seem like he has a single outfit that doesn’t have the color pink anywhere in it) but he’s got the softboy appeal under wraps. It’s good to be short, and blonde (enough), with a cute and high voice and round golden eyes the color of honey and five times as sweet, Kihei notices, and it would be a waste if he didn’t take advantage of his assets. If he bats his pretty little eyelashes and moves his legs juuuuust the right way, slightly pressed together in an almost sensually timid way, he can get the fans to scream at a moment’s notice. “Ple-Please take care of us today...!” He says, throwing in a stutter just to get that ‘shy moe boy’ feel to it, and he hears the fans delighted cheers echo throughout the venue, all for him. Just the way he likes it.

It’s the same way with the dorm secretaries. A little flattery and some small talk goes a long way with women who are stuck at the same desk filing papers seven hours a day, five days a week. “Good morning, miss!” Kihei says, in his sugary sweet voice, leaning himself on the pristine white desk of the front lobby, greeting the working secretary with a smile. He knows all their names, first and last by heart, but he’s still in the process of working on their spouses’ and children’s. People like it when you remember that kind of thing, so he always makes an effort where he knows he can reap the rewards. “How did your daughter’s piano recital go?” Kihei couldn’t be less interested in how it went, actually, and frankly he’d be more entertained if she went into a spiel about how the piano broke, the building burned down, three people died, and there was an outbreak of the black plague, but he keeps his mouth shut about that part. 

“Oh, it went really well actually, thanks for asking! I can’t believe you remembered!” Kihei wishes he didn’t have to, actually, but he doesn’t really have a choice. The middle aged woman at the counter laughs, and he musters himself up to do the same. 

“Why wouldn’t I?” He says between giggles. “I love hearing about what’s going on! It’s so much more interesting than dance lessons, anyways.” It’s a lie, really, because at least at dance lessons he gets the opportunity to see Rai trip over his own feet, maybe get hurt, fall on his ass, the usual, but with this boring little small talk he’s forced to listen and pretend to care. One of the nicer things about Ticket Love is that they don’t actually care if Kihei cares or not. Or, best of all, they actually make an effort to talk about what Kihei cares about. Not that he would ever say that he appreciates it, or anything. 

The woman stops laughing, and explains that yes, the recital did indeed go well, and her daughter had actually won first place, and she got a perfect score from the judges, and she had done sooooo well, and the other usual things doting parents will say about their children. Kihei gasps and smiles, applauding her daughter’s hard work and tells the woman to congratulate her for him. But of course, she doesn’t stop there, going into detail the other people who performed, what they played, what the judges thought, what SHE thought, until Kihei can’t help but think maybe working a nine to five for an idol production company wasn’t really her first choice of a job when she was growing up. He listens, of course, and chimes in little, “oh!”s and “hm...”s, to make sure SHE knows he’s listening, because he’s not just going to stand there all day and not get anything out of it. He isn’t a charity case (besides for his work for the salvation army, but that’s entirely different). 

Eventually, thank god, she stops and looks at the time and realizes that she had gone on for what was half an hour but felt like more. She apologizes profusely, but Kihei just smiles and says it’s no big deal (but it really is, he has places to go and things to do too, you know) and says his goodbyes whilst walking off and “almost” forgetting something important. He could never forget it, if course, it’s the whole reason he stuck through with her little story for so long, but it’s cuter if he’s a clutz and she thinks what she had to say was really more important that what he came here to do in the first place. 

Kihei rushes back to the desk, and apologizes before making his request. “I know it’s a bit short notice, but could I have a visitor stay over at the dorm for the night? Pretty please?” He puts his hands together as if in prayer and closes his eyes while waiting. Visitors aren’t uncommon at the dorms, but the visitation papers take a little while to go through, and not to mention overnight stays are prohibited. Kihei understands why, of course, because visitors can’t be easily monitored and letting them stay overnight poses a safety threat, but that’s not going to stop him from trying. Students are allowed leave during holidays and extended weekends, of course, but this place is his home now, and it’s not like Kihei really has anywhere to go back to should he choose to leave. And his guest doesn’t really pose a threat to anyone, either, so it should be fine. 

The secretary takes a moment to think. “Mitsuharu....” She pauses, and for a moment Kihei thinks all his work will have been for naught, so he intertwines his fingers and gives her the best puppy-dog eyes he can muster, with a slightly trembling lip and all. No one has ever said no to him before, and he’s not about to set a new record today. Even though she can’t see it, he pivots his leg slightly and leans on his right side, just to get himself into the right mindset. “You know we’re not supposed to allow overnight guests at the dorms, it’s against policy.” 

Well, in the end, whether she gets fired or not for letting him do this is none of Kihei’s concern, and he’ll just do it again and again until a whole new batch of secretaries and receptionists are employed in the dorm offices. “Ah... If you can’t, then... then it’s fine, I guess. I was really just hoping....” He drops his hands to link them together behind his back, looking down at the ground. He can see his own face reflected in the shiny linoleum floors, and he really wonders how anyone can fall for his act. He scruffs up his reflection by kicking around the ground with the dirty bottom of his shoe until he can’t see his face anymore. 

Scrambling to assuage Kihei’s concerns, the secretary grabs a guest form paper from one of the filing cabinets stationed behind her and quickly hands it to Kihei. He looks between her and the paper, slowly, and then breaks out into a grin. He knew this was going to happen. He’s not surprised, not even in the slightest. He’d have been shocked if this wasn’t the outcome, actually, but if he thinks about that for too long his own arrogance will seep to his countenance, so he lets it go. In the end, everything he just did was lip service, but he still plays along with it, and enthusiastically fills out the paperwork, writing down the name ‘Ryujiro’ for his guest. Kihei texts Ryujiro himself, letting him know everything was approved and they just need his signature. 

The secretary takes a look at the paperwork, completely filled out save for the guests’ signature. Kihei already knew most of the information by heart, address phone number, all that was committed to memory in case something were to happen. “‘Ryujiro’, huh? You seem to have him over a lot, don’t you?” She asks, finally turning the conversation over to something that Kihei is genuinely interested in. He could go on and on about Ryujiro, how they met, how they started going out, how he was the first person who genuinely treated him with any respect and expected nothing out of him, and for a moment Kihei considers talking about him, but why should he? 

Kihei just smiles. “Yeah, he does! Ryu-chan is super important to me! He’s such a good friend!” And he leaves it at that. Ryujiro is, of course, more than that, and anyone with critical thinking skills would be able to tell, but Kihei doesn’t say anything about it. His boasting and PDA is for the sole purpose of mocking Rai and Yamada, who couldn’t seem to get themselves together even if their lives depended on it. Or... no, nevermind, there’s definitely no chance he tells them because he actually likes talking to them about his life. Outside of that, Kihei is a professional. An idol. A fantasy. He sells dreams, sure, but most importantly he sells a character. A fantasy. Kihei Mitsuharu of Ticket Love is the cute and single boy next door that fans either want to pamper, or dominate, or maybe both, depending on who they are. Finding out there’s already someone doing that would just ruin his appeal. So, he generally keeps it to himself. 

As the woman finishes going through the papers, flipping back and forth to make sure everything lines up (it does, of course, because he’s not stupid) Kihei hears the twinkling bells of the front door opening behind him and turns around to see Ryujiro there to greet him with open arms. It’s been awhile since they’ve had the chance to see each other, maybe a few weeks with all the practice and rehearsals for their upcoming live show, so Kihei eagerly goes to meet him at the door and snuggles into his embrace. “I missed youuuuu....” Kihei sighs longingly, laying his head on Ryujiro’s chest. 

He feels a few gentle pats on the back before pulling away as Ryujiro smiles at him and says, “I missed you, too.” His smile is so wide and pure, and just, real, that it makes Kihei’s chest clench up for a moment. Ryujiro laughs and reaches his hand up to comb his black hair back, but two sections end up falling forward again anyways. 

Quickly, before the secretary can change her mind, Ryujiro greets her with a friendly introduction and signs his name, shuffling away with an awkward ‘goodbye’ before she can say anything more. Instinctively Kihei wraps himself around Ryujiro’s arm once she’s out of sight, holding on tight as he guides him to the Ticket Love dorm, (even though Ryujiro has been here enough and knows the way by now, it makes Kihei feel good to be needed) passing by their dance studio, recording studio, and dressing rooms. They pass through the door displaying ‘Ticket Love’ in glittery red font and arrive in the group’s personal living quarters, where they get a small kitchen (that’s hardly ever used- everyone just microwaves cup noodles) dining room, and a tiny sitting area with a TV, shelf storing a few video games, couch, and storage bench behind it. On one wall are the doors to the bedrooms, one single and one double, and the bathroom they share. 

The decor is relatively plain, nothing too special. A few paintings here and there, what looks to be decorative DIY mason jars on the kitchen counter, and a motivational quote hanging between one of the counters and the cabinet above. On the dining table sits a small red tablecloth that can’t even cover the full extent. A corkboard is up on one wall, and to it pinned is a calendar and reminders for the group members. Mostly things like, ‘dress rehearsal friday’, ‘concert monday’, ‘variety show appearances on the 29th’. They’re all written in Yamada’s elaborate cursive handwriting, relayed to him by the producers and slightly smeared from  
his left hand. 

Most of the decorating is done in the bedrooms. Kihei isn’t in there often, but from what he understands Rai keeps a few statuettes in his shared room with Yamada, as well as a cat bed and litter box for Mimi. Kihei’s room is a relative mess, with photo booth picture strips of Ryujiro and himself, as well as with Ticket Love pinned to the wall around his door. On the other end of the room he keeps his display shelf filled with butterflies and beetles, and a display shelf for his knife collection, featuring lots of collector’s knives, and rainbow holographic ones, and even one with hearts engraved into the handle, bought for him as a birthday gift. The whole case is locked, of course, and the only key stays with him, because he doesn’t trust his friends with anything sharper than a spoon. 

Since nobody is in the common room when they arrive, Ryujiro takes a seat on one of the dining room chairs and Kihei plops himself in his lap. It’s not particularly comfortable physically, but it gives him a sense of emotional satisfaction, and that’s worth the price. They stay like that for a little while, talking quietly between themselves. Kihei doesn’t have to push himself to be sickly sweet, not now. His laughs come from the heart, and bubble up from his chest, slowly, at first, in little giggles, until he can’t help it and he’s grinning like and idiot and wrapping his hand around the back of Ryujiro’s neck to keep himself from falling off. Kihei’s laughter is contagious, and even though he’s sure Ryujiro didn’t find whatever was just said very funny, he starts laughing too. 

Eventually, the other members of Ticket Love make their way to the commons as well. Rai, making his way out of his bedroom with a flushed face and a glowing expression (Kihei can only hope he just got out of a warm shower, and he wasn’t doing something else) and Sasuke getting home from some kind of outting, Kihei can only presume, without finding out more information than he wants to know. 

Ryujiro has been in the dorms enough that he isn’t an unfamiliar face, by any means. Rai and Sasuke know him my name, now, and they’ve seen him a few times, to Kihei’s chagrin, and exchange pleasantries even if they encounter each other whilst Kihei isn’t around. Kihei’s mood doesn’t.... well, it doesn’t sour, per se, when his group mates show up, but they definitely don’t improve it, either. Once Rai starts inquiring into the specifics of their relationship, (“So, Ryujiro, does he like, pay you to put up with him or something? I’m so sorry for you.”) Kihei drags Ryujiro off and they retreat into his room for privacy. Of course, Rai always has to be the one to open his big fat stupid mouth. 

And that, plus a few other well timed events, give or take, is how Kihei managed to get himself affixed to his mattress, with his dominant wrist encircled by Ryujiro’s hand and pinned above his head. 

This wasn’t the first time they had done something like this, nor would it be the last, but never before had it been in Kihei’s own room. He was suddenly hyper aware of the dirty laundry splayed around the floor, the over chemical smell of preservatives, both for flowers and bugs, as well as his messy shelves, the strewn papers, basically everything about his environment that was just embarrassing and, well, not at all sexy. Was his heart racing in anticipation for what was about to happen, or anxiety because of his insecurities? He really couldn’t tell, but he really hoped it was the former rather than the latter. 

He SHOULD have been thankful he was finally getting laid after who knows how long it’s been, but of course Kihei has to just go and make everything weird. Noticing his worries, Ryujiro lowered his head into the crook between Kihei’s neck and shoulder. “Do you want to stop?” He asked the grip on Kihei’s wrist loosening slightly, giving him wiggle room that he decides against taking advantage of. 

As Ryujiro speaks, Kihei can feel his breath on his chest, in short, hot bursts, right against his sensitive skin. Long ago had shirts been disregarded, leaving them in naught but Ryujiro’s pants and Kihei’s boxers (pink, of course, what else would they be). If Kihei’s face wasn’t already flushed, it definitely would have by now, and he replies with a quiet, but audible, “No, keep going.” Ryujiro obliges, slowly, and tightens his grip on Kihei’s wrist as he leaves a slow trail of kisses across Kihei’s neck and chest. Worries are soon forgotten as Kihei’s free hand makes its way to grip the bed sheets, writhing in his pleasure. 

If Kihei thinks about it, and I mean REALLY thinks about it, he does wonder why Ryujiro stays with him. There’s not really a specific reason he can put his finger on, unless he really is just waiting until Kihei makes it big to marry into money. The sex is good...? Fine? Decent? It doesn’t seem bad, but Kihei can’t really speak from experience, because he had never really been with anyone else before. And Kihei.... well, yeah, Kihei isn’t the NICEST there is.... he likes to think he treats Ryujiro well, though. So, there’s that. But Kihei isn’t exactly the type you can just bring to a party to meet all your friends, unless he puts on his stage persona, which at one point becomes more of a burden than anything else. 

Kihei isn’t bad looking. He wouldn’t have made it this far in showbiz if he was. But Ryujiro, he’s handsome in a completely different way, like, like he’s the exact opposite of Kihei. His handsomeness isn’t exactly rugged, and he still has a beautiful air to him, but he’s nothing like the petit cuteness Kihei tales claim of. He’s strong (Kihei practically can’t feel his wrist at this point, but he’s not going to just tell him to STOP) and he’s handsome, and he’s perfect in a way that Kihei can’t believe. And here he is, with his face buried in Kihei’s neck, leaving a mark that he’ll regretfully have to have the makeup crew cover with overt amounts of concealer in the morning. His arms are strong, and Kihei’s hand goes up to trail one of them up and down, feeling each muscle, firm and toned, for his eyes only. 

He could break Kihei if he wanted. That was what Kihei thought at first, when they began dating, that Ryujiro could snap him in two (even though Kihei would probably love that, he was smitten at first sight) but he was always gentle, and never did more than Kihei wanted, and it was a scary thing realizing that Ryujiro didn’t want to use his strength to hurt him, but to hold him and protect him. It took a long, long time for that to set in, and every time Kihei thought about it the concept became more unbelievable as Ryujiro continued to learn with avid desire every little thing he could about Kihei, and Kihei did the same for him. 

Ryujiro moves his head from it’s spot in Kiheis neck and places a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I love you.” He says, and it’s barely more than a whisper. “Are you ready?” His free hand trails down to the waistband of Kihei’s underwear, but before he can say yes, yes he is, a slamming door and obnoxious voice interrupts them, and suddenly in the doorway stands the bane to all that is good and well in the world, Rai. 

Without knocking, (as Yamada had most likely advised,) Rai opens the door, and says “Can you trade your time slot for individual singing assessment with me?” He doesn’t notice, at first, since he’s looking down at his handbook schedule, but when he’s not greeted with a response he looks up to see the scene unfold in front of him.

Kihei, half naked, face aflush lays pinned to his bed by Ryujiro, also, unsurprisingly, half naked and flushed. Both of them, being shell-shocked and wide eyed, did nothing but stare. “Ah.” Rai says, simply, and matter-of-factly, like he had not just walked in on what would be a scarring memory but had instead just learned a new fact about earth science. “I’ll be leaving.” And as quickly as he had arrived, he had left, shutting the door quietly.

With surprising strength for someone as short as himself, Kihei breaks away from Ryujiro’s grasp, quickly finding his pants off the floor and throwing them on. He grabs the first shirt he sees- Ryujiro’s, and of a metal band, and throws it over his head. The first knife he finds off a dresser he takes, specifically one with gold trim around the handle, and quickly flips it open, nearly cutting up his palm in his haste, and he’s out of the room with immeasurable speed, leaving Ryujiro both embarrassed and disappointed.


End file.
